To make matters worse I was sobbing uncontrollably. It felt like everyone watching must surely
think I was a basket case and needed psychiatric care. I could not
express in words what my heart ached with or was crying out so I asked them; "Can
I show you what I feel?” The facilitator nodded his head.
I dropped to the floor and laid in a ball in front of the
"Father". I held his ankles and laid my face upon his feet. His
feet became wet with my tears and wiped them with my hair. The room and
the people in it disappeared (See the above picture by Mr. Johnson because it
is an image of exactly how I felt at that moment).
I remained there sobbing and thought of Mary Magdalene and
wished I had expensive perfumed oils to offer. All I could think of was
my desire for the Father to love me. I thought to myself, I am not worthy
to stand and face you but surely I am worthy to lie at your feet? There
is a great book that describes the scene of Mary Magdalene at Jesus' feet
(besides the bible of course) that describes it so very beautifully.
"She spent her life earning a living by selling false
love to any who would buy it. But the Man before her now was different.
He looked passed her reputation to her very soul. His eyes had no agenda,
no desire to use her. They probed the deepest crevices of her pain but she saw
no loathing, no hatred, and no condemnation. How could this be? She
saw only compassion and mercy mingled with sadness at what He knew she had
suffered. She looked away. She did not know what to do in the face
of love that held no guile or hidden motive. Yet her gaze drew back to
this Man they called Teacher. Her heart compelled her.
Could it really be true? One more time their gazes
locked. She could not look away again even if she tried. How could
she return even a drop of the ocean of love in which He washed her that day?
It was inappropriate to be sure. It was in the middle of an important
dinner for which she had no invitation. And it was not in the proper manner.
She could scarcely believe she had just barged right into the middle of
the room. It was absolutely undignified yet she was compelled by His
love. She washed His feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair.
It costs her everything, every shred of dignity and year's wages gone in
an instant as she poured out her precious perfume.
Did they know how this amount had been earned? She shuddered at
the thought but it was fleeting. The look in His eyes again captured her
heart. The room disappeared. The jeering looks and accusations
faded as He filled all her vision.
Wasteful. Indignant. Extravagance poured over this
Man the only Man who ever showed her the face of love. How could she not
pour out her everything on Him? Love outpoured overtook the gathering.
The fragrance of intoxicating overpowering adoration that gave all it had
and risked all it was filled the room. Inappropriate. Indecent.
Scandalous. Wasteful.
But Jesus-what did he do? He accepted it. He
defended it. He applauded it. He cherished it. He recorded
it for all time"pg 47
I have been praying for receptivity to the Holy Spirit for the
past two years. I was now being able to see that vulnerability is. It is the predicator to receptivity. This is what I was seeking.
 |
| Passion of The Christ |
Why was I so afraid of vulnerability? Why did I see
vulnerability as weakness?
It was then that I got the answer. I saw a picture in my
mind of me at 3 years of age, lying naked on a waterbed being sexually abused
by "Al" the babysitter.
Of Course! I had made the agreement that vulnerability means
losing your rights and being unprotected. You cannot get more vulnerable
than being three years old, naked and being sexually assaulted in a strange
place. Even if I could have gotten away where would I have gone? I was
alone and had no idea how to get home. This was vulnerability to me.
I had decided at three years old that being vulnerable meant being
violated, assaulted and victimized. I thought the only person that could
be trusted to protect me was myself because others cannot be counted upon.
It was this lie that I had decided to believe that set me up to be a
woman that could not be vulnerable. I had misunderstood what being vulnerable
means. I had thought to be a vulnerable woman would become a woman that
was weak.
Mary Magdalene was not weak, she was brave. She was brave
enough to believe that Christ would accept her and her offering. She
marched a crossed that floor and she opened herself in a very vulnerable way.
She was not assaulted there nor did she become violated. In fact, it was
her lifestyle that violated her and stripped her of her dignity. Here, in
her willingness to expose herself she was having her dignity restored.
That's when it hit me. If I was willing to become naked in the same
way then could I be healed too? Was I resisting being vulnerability
because I was still consumed by shame? What is shame? What does it mean
to say that Adam and Eve were naked without shame? Could it be that I
must be willing to willingly become naked in front of God so that in that
voluntary vulnerability I could finally experience healing? Yes, I think I
needed to relinquish control so that I could let God lead me. If I could
do that, it would be the beginning of learning to trust Him.
Control has been my lover for the last 41 years. It has
made me feel strong, competent and has soothed my anxieties like drugs for a
junkie. If I could not deal with how something was happening, I would
take control. Want to know how that has worked out for me? Let's just say
I have burned a lot of bridges in my life using control as a coping mechanism.
Being vulnerable meant I would have to give up control. This was
going to be harder than I thought.
One of the nights I was at the Healing retreat I had a dream
about what this control was doing in my marriage. In the dream I was
about to be attacked by a large deformed dog. It was about to crush my
skull in it's oversized jaws. My husband was standing in front of me, raising
his fist to strike the dog beast down. I watched, as he seemed to be
slowly puffed up with air. He was getting larger and larger but he did
not release raised fist to strike the dog. Fear began to well up inside
of me. I had to take over. I
began to scream at him.
"What are you doing? Hit the dog!!! He is going to kill me!
Shawn! Whats wrong with you?! Hit the dog!"
As I continued to yell at him, I watched as the air began to go
out of him and he grew smaller and smaller with every scream.
Then it was our daughter Mercedes sitting in my place.
She is our 8 year old daughter and she is a tiny, petite , little
flibertyjibbit. Surely he would rise to the occasion for his
daughter?
I sat powerless to help her. Once again he began to fill
up, growing taller and larger. His fist rose up higher and larger.
My fear that the dog would strike before Shawn would act burst out of me
again. I began to yell and holler at him to hit the dog. The
louder I yelled, the smaller my husband became.
The next morning I thought about the dream. I realized
that my desire to control as well as my refusal to be vulnerable was
emasculating my husband. I had stripped him of feeling adequate, worthy
or even capable of doing, well...anything.
Could it be that me controlling the family and all of our
decision was stealing his joy, his purpose, his worthiness? If he were in
that role, would he in fact become a more beautiful husband and father? I
then thought about how the man is the "head" and the woman is the
"heart".
I honestly believe that for a woman to operate in the head, she
must make her heart covered in stone. A woman is made to flow from the
heart. Even scientists and psychiatrists will tell you that a man has the
ability to think through stressful situations and assess them cognitively
without being drawn into the affect. He can then compartmentalize them
and rank them in according to purpose and then deal with the decisions that
flow from it.
Women usually think on things simultaneously. For me to
put myself into the very stressful role of dealing with all of the difficult
decisions (that come from the head) I had to shut off my heart or else I would have
internally combusted. I had made my heart into stone. No wonder I
had a hard time hugging and kissing my children! I had to turn off the affect
so I could get things done! I had a house to run and finances to sort out and
decisions to make and stress to deal with! I had no time for snuggling and
comforting children.
It' somewhat ironic that I went to Florida to find out why I
have a hard time showing affection and ended up dealing with the very thing
that the root or cause. I thought about how arguing with the HVAC guy or
electrical guy or the bank guy etc, was making me into a hardened woman not a
vulnerable one. I could not be both. I was not made for being a
manipulative woman that always found a way to get what she wanted or needed.
I was made to love and be loved.
I now had to ask myself the question is there a spiritual
aspect of this issue of mine that must be addressed? "Have I come into
agreement with a spirit of control?". I looked deeply within me and
prayed to the Holy Spirit for wisdom. I had barely begun to ask the question
when a resounding YES rang out within me. It's name is The Jezebel Spirit. (Click the link
for more information).
The next day I spent some time with the Intercessory Prayer
team and we renounced lies, unbound agreements and cut the connections that the
Jezebel Spirit had made to me. I realized right away that I had come into
agreement with the clever lies it had proposed to me. It is in making an
agreement that I had given it power in my life.
I can honestly say I experienced a tremendous shift in my
thinking and freedom from something very powerful. That week was another
week in the journey to becoming the woman I have always been meant to be.
If I want my husband to succeed in being father, husband and man of God
that he has been called to be, then I must give him the opportunity to lead our
family. It is this very thing that will fulfill him and his masculinity.
So where am I now? Well, now I am dealing with trust and
overcoming the fear that wells up inside of me when I am not the one making the
decisions at home or orchestrating how the days, weeks and months play out (not
easy at all but I can do all things through Christ Who Strengthens me! Phil
4:13).
If I am standing on the platform then how will he ever be able
to? Everyday it hurts. Everyday I am challenged to be vulnerable
but the first step came in understanding that Jesus would never define being
vulnerable as opening myself to be violated.
Being vulnerable now means that I am willing to be imperfect.
I know that I am not bad, in fact, I am the opposite, I am very, very
good. I may make mistakes and do things that are bad, but I am not bad.
In fact, I have been hard wired for struggle. I will continue to struggle against the
difficulties of life but now I realize that when I am vulnerable, I open up the
door for God to come in and take care of me.
I have now entered into a trusting relationship with God in a
very different way. I try to pay attention to when I use the words
"should" and "need" and "but" because they show
me when I am trying to control people or things or when I am not allowing God
the freedom to move in my life or the lives of others.
I am glad I had the courage to be vulnerable because if I
hadn't I would have missed a week of intense inner healing of the deep wounds I
have carried from my childhood. I am not all better yet, but I am on the
road to healing. He knocked on the door and I opened it. I now
allow Him to lead as the Good Shepard and I am continually reminding myself not
to take the place of the butcher (the guy who drives the sheep). When He
leads (and I am not driving things from behind) then I can trust that He will
take care of me and I can be vulnerable. His way, affords protection, green
pastures, quiet waters, it refreshes my soul and I am protected from evil.
That sounds a whole lot better than what I have been giving myself the
past 41 years.
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack
nothing.
2
He makes
me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3
he
refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his
name’s sake.
4
Even though I walk
through
the darkest valley,[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you
are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they
comfort me.
5
You prepare a table before me
in the
presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my
cup overflows.
6
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the
days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.
